


John Seed - A First Date and a Helping Hand

by Padme4000



Series: A First Date and a Helping Hand [2]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, First Date, Gen, Needles, Panic, reader is diabetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 05:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18564772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Padme4000/pseuds/Padme4000
Summary: Your big date is with John Seed, having taken too long he begins to think you left. With rising anger he makes to leave but stops. Will he lend a helping hand?Second/Third POV. Reader gender is not mentioned. That is up to you.





	John Seed - A First Date and a Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Description of anxiety/panic, needles, injections, diabetes.
> 
> Advised to read first part to this series. You do not have to read further entries unless you want to read how things would have gone had your date been someone else.

To say that John was verging on wrath was to put it lightly, he had honestly thought that you had something urgent to respond to, from the way you reacted to the little alarm beeping upon your person. Then you had said you’d be right back, he had believed you. He had wanted to believe you.

You had caught his interest, after all he wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t. He liked what he saw and he liked who you were. Well what he knew before today. Not even that cute apologetic smile could fix this. It had been well over half an hour and you were not back. If you had to leave for an emergency you would have just come and told him surely.

But no, there was no sign of you.

Just as he reached for his coat on the back of his stool he heard someone talk to the bartender telling them that someone had been in one of the toilets for quite some time. Not sure whether they were okay or not, or if they were doing something they shouldn’t.

The bartender merely shrugged in response saying if they weren’t out soon he’d go check, till then he would do nothing. The customer huffed and went back towards their group of friends.

The timing could be coincidence. Yet he didn’t believe it was. So he grabbed his coat, putting it on just in case he decided to leave after all and made his way towards the toilets.

He glanced at the locked door once he arrived, wondering just what it was that he was doing. Before he decided to just knock and get over with, if it was someone else that answered he would know you just left. It would be the end of it. Not that he’d let you forget about it.

If you answered, then maybe something more was going on. Maybe he’d misread the situation with the bleeping. The little machine that you had gotten out had looked similar to a pager, not that he thought anyone outside of Hospitals used them anymore.

You had looked at it just under a minute, so he had assumed it had been a pager. What else would it have been?

Then a shaky voice answered, “Yes?” Your voice. He would know it anywhere, even with it sounding so vulnerable.

“Open up.” If you had been in there that long he truly hoped you weren’t in there for using the toilet. Surely no one could take that long? He shuddered at the thought just as he heard the lock click and then nothing.

So you were making him work for it? With a frustrated sigh he opened the door about to let out his raging emotions when he saw the state you were in. He quickly entered the small room, and closed the door behind him locking it once more.

No need for anyone else to see you in that state. Especially the bits of the skin that were now available for his eyes to see, and work out a part of the reason you had likely been taking that long. His eyes then darting to the sink where you had placed everything, to the alcohol wipe on the floor.

He looked at the contraption still sealed but very visible. Once again glancing at your stomach where two plasters lay. One with a clear plastic on top with a wire coming from it leading to another machine. One with again clear plastic on top but on top of that a little grey piece.

“That’s the transmitter.” Your voice was still shaky but it now seemed you had calmed enough to talk. “It sends that machine that went off earlier my blood sugar readings, the alarm goes off for three reasons. My bloods are too low, too high or the sensor needs changing.”

He waited patiently till you finished, having quickly worked out that you were a Diabetic. The other machine likely being the pump that gave you insulin. He then asked, “What can I do to help?”

Shock entered your eyes at his question, already being quite shocked from everything else to that point but then a warmth entered them.

“I sometimes have anxiety when having to change my sensor. I can see the needle and while they normally don’t bother me. Some days they do. Especially when I know if it has been painful before.”

“Tell me how to do it.” He normally wouldn’t think of doing something like this, but he felt a pull to help you. His anger long forgotten and replaced with concern. He was use to needles, he could help with this. Had it been something else he didn’t know if would help like he was offering to do now. But what obviously mattered to you was that he was still in the room and hadn’t ran at the first sign something was wrong.

The stare he gave you when you raised your eyebrow in question stopped you from asking him why and instead you explained that the old one needed removing first. Then the new area cleaning with the alcohol wipe, which you reached into your bag for.

As you placed it on the sink, he knelt down to get better access to your stomach and reached towards the old plaster, remembering not to chuck the little grey thing away. He glanced at you and when you nodded your consent, face flushing with embarrassment and relief he began peeling at the edge of the plaster. Your stomach jumping at the touch, likely the little shock he too had felt. But he put that thought in a little vault in his mind for later analysis.

  
Once the plaster was off, he took the little thing he must not forget about off and placed them both on the sink. One side for keep, the other for throw away after.

He then took the new alcohol wipe packet in his hand and one smooth motion opened it, without a word he found a place on your stomach, he wiped a part of your stomach with the wipe, after wiping the new area he cleaned the area the old one had been. Every movement precise and gentle.

He could clearly see your hands were shaking so he knew while this part may have been something you were capable with, he would do it as the whole ordeal would be over quicker for you. So once he was done and the newly wiped area began to dry he waited for his next instructions.

With a now slight tremor in your hand you grabbed the packet with the contraption that was part of the cause that was causing you so much anxiety. He took it gently from your hands, opening and taking the slightly cool plastic in his hand. Looking more closely at the device, as you explained first the covers on the plaster needed removing, and then the piece of plastic that looked like an ice scraper.

Warning you to be careful as now the needle could move. He smiled at your concern, especially since it was causing you to calm even more. Concentrating on him and instead of what was coming.

But the nerves returned as he placed the device on your stomach, smoothing the plaster onto your skin while holding the device. He could see what was the issue, not only like you said that having had more than one quite a bit of pain with it, but also what you had meant about seeing the needle. If the length of the needle made you on edge. Then the clear cylinder it lay in was part of the problem.

Why they couldn’t have made it differently he had no clue. His earlier anger now going towards the corporations that made this things without thinking that the consumer might have a fear for such things.

Ideas were running wildly through his mind until he felt a hand brush the side of his face, his eyes darting to yours. “You okay?”

Cursing himself silently he said the word he was known for. “Yes.” While you were concentrating on him he pressed the plunger down to insert the cannula into your belly. He didn’t see one wince, which meant this time you had been lucky. There was no pain. Or maybe he was just that distracting that you hadn’t noticed.

He stood in one fluid movement, catching the hand that had brushed his face before leaning forward and pressing his lips to your cheek. He then leant back and with no warning helped you right your clothes. Hands now grazing skin with a self satisfied look on his face.

There was now a quite dazzling smile on your face, your eyes full of wonder. “Thank you.”

“I can think of a few ways you can thank me.” A slight raise of his eyebrows and you smacking his arm at his suggestion you both leave once everything is put away. Neither caring what the other patrons were thinking.

He slung an arm around you, leading you back to the bar. Okay so maybe John had no problems with people thinking something had happened. It meant they might know better than to try to take you away from him.

**Author's Note:**

> Have another character you'd like to see? Comment and I will try my best to add them :)


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